And The Winner Is......

Have you seen the annoying bumper sticker? "He who dies with the most toys wins"...? It's recently been gnawing at me and I've attempted to just ignore it. Avoidance isn't working. (Get over the hump, yes, I'm writing again after.....some months.)

While the financial position that I am in makes some of what I say seem hypocritical, I choose to make the observation anyway. This, life, is not a contest. We are not here to out do each other. What I accumulate, what you accumulate over a life time is not an indication of relative status in life. And it most certainly is NOT an indication of your righteousness and blessings from the Lord.

Cliche, I know. We've all heard it our whole lives. With the economy in it's current state, we are hearing it more frequently. But, (let's throw in the proverbial conjunction), we excel at spewing what sounds logical and we fail miserably at putting it inot practice. That failure is no accident. Believe you me, what we all preach is great for the other guy, as long as we feel no pain, physical or mental. What's good for the goose may be good for the gander, but here in Zion, it's all about appearance. If we appear to be charitable, humble, perfect souls, then...we are, right?

In March, I was bequeathed with a most wonderful gift. My Dad built me a house. And it is nothing short of amazing. It's big, ridiculously big. No human needs as much space as we now occupy, but, it is my gift. We chose to build and relocate. I will admit that the neighborhood we chose to build our monstrosity in, made me nervous. Pristine, pricey, religious, step ford wives. I was determined to believe that all this was just a figment of my active imagination. Surely I would move in and the people would prove me wrong. Surely all those perfect "condo yards" were just illusionary visions that would reveal real people that lived within.

Diverging for just a moment.....Move in day! I hired movers. Smart, mostly. We cried...a lot!! But they packed up our old house and moved it to the new house. We cried as they packed. We cried as they pulled the van away. We cried watching the van pull up the new street. We cried....a lot.

Despite our sentimentality, the movers were tremendous. They jumped right in and tried to make it the exciting occasion that it was supposed to be. They were happy and laughing with us and trying to make it less stressful. 20 minutes after they arrived the "guy in charge" came up from the basement to let me know that the carpet was wet. Ha ha what, the, F-U-C-K!? I ventured down to the depths of basement-dom to find an inch of water in my new furnace room with feces floating in it. It smelled like a bad baby diaper.

Welcome to your new home! The sewer has backed up and you are swimming in shit! Good grief Charlie Brown, are you kidding me?

It took a plumber, the general contrator, rooter guy, the county and micro-camera to find and fix the problem. Note, the problem is fixed!

Now back to our regularly scheduled bitch session.....

I wasn't in my home 24 hours and I had neighbors bring me treats, goodies and well wishes. See, they are nicer than I imagined. Surely they didn't bring goodies to size me up, investigate the interior of my home to see how it compared to their own and certainly not to "see" what a home schooler looks like. Customary roll of the eyeballs, I didn't just jump the turnip wagon. Please, if your greeting consists of "Hi, I'm so and so, and I live such and such and I hear you home school", then, at the very least, you are goss, uh, talking about me in Relief Society. Yes, you are. That doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out. I realized, with hovering disappointment, that you are taking inventory to see where I fit in the neighborhood,("ward") pecking order. And it doesn't bode well for me that I'm a proud Unitarian.

The last of these "well wishers", (looky, nosyloos) was a girl that atteded the same high school as me. You know that sinking feeling you get when a popular throw back encounters you in the grocery store and they have no fucking clue who you were...are. Imagine that in the entry of your home. That's a Titanic feeling.

I began feel a strange sort of judgement contest looming with every knock on the door. That feeling that you must characterize me and put me in the acceptable or unacceptable category for future reference. Worse, I couldn't get the feeling to go away. I would get excited when the doorbell would ring and feel the sting of disapproval as I shut the door. The last draw seems to have been in the last few weeks with the constant stream of cars that drives by at all hours of the day and night.

I appreciate the curiosity about my home. It is unique and I have no doubt that I am a topic of conversation at church. How else would so many people that I've never met, know that I home school? But the initial interest has subsided. I'm not getting any dinner invites, party invites or playgroup invites. No one wants to get to know us, they just want to see my house. No one wants to play with my kids, they just want to know that they have more, make more, are better than us.

It bothered me in the beginning. It doesn't anymore. I have something that my neighbors, with all their stuff, their perceived social position, their religious angst and perfect projection don't have. I have real friends and family. I have a brother with the most hideous mullet you've ever seen, and I love it!!! I have friends who are loud, who drink to much, and who scare the b-jesus out of the "normal" world. And I know that anyone of them would go to the ends of the earth for me and my family. I know they would because we are all doing it for one of our own right now. A sweet baby girl who is going through Chemo. My neighbors look perfect. I don't. And I don't want to. I want my weird imperfect world.